


you and i

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Crossdressing, D/s, M/M, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_marguerite_26"><a href="http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/"><b>marguerite_26</b></a></span>'s and <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_novemberlite"><a href="http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/"><b>novemberlite</b></a></span>'s <a href="http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/34720.html">Kinkspiration Round 2: Crossdressing</a>. Go read all the gorgeous stuff over there! Beta'd by the lovely <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_bohemiabythesea"></span><a href="http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/"></a><b>bohemiabythesea</b>. Any remaining inconsistencies are all my fault. (Sorry about the rubbish title. My brain stopped working at some point.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	you and i

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/profile)[**marguerite_26**](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/) 's and [](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile)[**novemberlite**](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/) 's [Kinkspiration Round 2: Crossdressing](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/34720.html). Go read all the gorgeous stuff over there! Beta'd by the lovely [](http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bohemiabythesea.livejournal.com/)**bohemiabythesea**. Any remaining inconsistencies are all my fault. (Sorry about the rubbish title. My brain stopped working at some point.)

  
The whorehouse is dark and smoky. No one expresses surprise at the sight of the cloak that conceals his clothes and face, the patrons accustomed to noblemen who frequent the place for its guarantee of anonymity, of liberty to indulge in what would elsewhere be considered deviant behaviour.

The room upstairs is surprisingly well-lit by bright candlelight. At the dresser is everything he’ll need. After discarding his cloak and dressing himself in the outfit he’s carried with him, Arthur turns to the mirror. He does up his eyes, pale blue glitter over his eyelids and soft kohl under his lower lashes. When he’s done, his lips are red and strawberry-sweet. No one’s going to kiss them tonight; the risk of discovery is too great. He picks up the hard black leather ball and pushes it between his teeth, buckles it on behind his head, and turns to look at himself in the full-length mirror.

The floor-length, deep red skirt covers his legs, the material soft, clutching at his skin, the weight of its brocaded hem making it cling to his thighs and swirl around his ankles. His midriff is bare, his belly-button well above the plunging V of the skirt’s gold-embroidered waist. Above his stomach, a silk bodice matching the skirt covers his nipples, and is held in place by ribbons tied behind his neck and criss-crossing over his back.

He picks up the red silk veil and binds it into place above the bridge of his nose. The dark gold ringlets of his false hair frame his face and cascade down his back.

He kneels carefully, the heavy silver anklets at his feet jingling at the movement. Crossing his wrists behind his back, he waits.

No more than a few minutes later, there is a knock on the door, the gesture too courteous for a place like this. Without waiting for a response, his customer pushes open the door and enters.

Arthur’s downcast eyes only have to catch sight of the familiar boots, the slender legs in their dark breeches, for the gasp of recognition to escape his mouth, muffled around his gag. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lowers his head further.

He feels Merlin’s palm under his chin, thumb lightly caressing over the veil, finding the gag beneath. Merlin’s thumb moves over his held-apart lips, slow and gentle, savouring him.

‘Fuck, you’re gorgeous,’ Merlin says, exhaling audibly. Arthur turns his face into Merlin’s hand. It smells of herbs, of the outdoors, fresh and wild and wintery. He inhales as deeply as he can through the heavy silk over his nose, and Merlin lets out a short, relieved laugh. ‘Let’s get you on to the bed, yeah?’

Arthur nods, letting Merlin clasp him around the waist and guide him to his feet, turning away from him as quickly as possible. Merlin knows his eyes. He kneels on the edge of the bed, his back to Merlin.

Merlin presses up close behind him, nuzzling his hair away, lips finding Arthur’s bare shoulder, the slope of his neck. His fingers caress the fake hair, trailing down the length of Arthur’s back, tracing the tightly-tied ribbons of the bodice, moving to Arthur’s still-crossed wrists. ‘I’m going to tie you up now, okay?’

Arthur makes a hum of assent. Merlin’s hand brushes the nape of his neck, guiding his hair over one shoulder, exposing his back and his wrists completely.

There are several moments of silence. Arthur fidgets a little, his knees begging to be allowed to shift position, but he stays still.

Then Merlin is back, winding soft rope very efficiently around Arthur’s wrists, trapping them in place at the small of his back. Arthur holds back a moan at the sensation of tightness around his wrists, the binding as much an anchor as a restraint.

Without speaking to him, Merlin grasps his shoulders and guides him forward and on to his stomach, so that he’s lying with his face pressed into the pillows. There is more rope, holding his ankles against his thighs, curling around his skin, tightening as Merlin pulls it taut and knots it. Arthur’s skirt is up around his thighs, the heavy, embroidered material slipping between his cheeks, and he can only imagine how it must be defining his arse for Merlin’s gaze.

Merlin’s fingers clasp his jewelled ankles, the silver bells breaking the silence. His hands guide Arthur’s bound legs apart. Arthur feels Merlin’s breath between his thighs before his face nestles into Arthur’s arse, his tongue licking through the red silk, finding the base of the wooden phallus that’s embedded deep inside Arthur. Merlin sucks in his breath at the discovery, hands clutching at Arthur’s hips, nose bumping against the wood, inadvertently nudging it deeper. Arthur cries out at the sensation, unable to stop himself, and Merlin huffs a small laugh against his arse.

His hands tease the material of the skirt higher up around Arthur’s waist, baring him completely. He licks around the base of the toy, thumbs slipping on either side of it to keep Arthur wide open, his tongue wet and slow and thorough. Arthur whimpers through the slow torture, nearly screaming around the intrusion in his mouth when Merlin’s hand moves between his thighs, finding the cord that’s bound snugly around his balls. His fingertips trace the rough length of it, right up to where it’s tight around the base of Arthur’s cock.

‘Fuck,’ Merlin breathes against Arthur’s skin. ‘That must be—it doesn’t hurt?’

‘Nnn,’ Arthur says, shaking his head, being honest, loving the sensation of being confined.

‘Hm,’ Merlin hums, his cheek against Arthur’s thigh. His tongue resumes its explorations, this time between Arthur’s legs, curling around his taut balls, sucking them into his mouth. Arthur screams.

Merlin stops immediately, pulling back. ‘Did I hurt you?’

Arthur shakes his head frantically. _Please, more, don’t stop, so good._ Only strangled moans escape from his mouth.

‘Okay, sshh, I have you.’ With a last brush of his lips against Arthur’s arse, Merlin moves up to kneel behind him. Arthur hears him undo his belt, the rough scrapes of rawhide as he unlaces his breeches. His hand curls around the base of the wooden toy, turning it slowly. ‘You want this, right?’

Arthur nods, breathing noisily through his nose, pushing back against Merlin’s hand as he begins thrusting the smooth wood in and out of his hole. Merlin laughs, the sound brimming with delight. ‘You love this, don’t you, you sweet slut. Love having a cock inside you.’ He slides the wooden cock out, oil trickling down the insides of Arthur’s thighs.

Arthur bites into the ball in his mouth. Fuck, this is wrong. Hearing those unanticipated words from Merlin’s mouth, making him want to retort with _you can’t talk to me this way, don’t you fucking dare, I’m your fucking king_ , but he isn’t, not really. Not now, anyway, when he’s helplessly intoxicated by the clothes, the make-up, the ropes. By Merlin’s hands, by Merlin’s mouth.

He lets his head hang between his shoulders, the long hair slithering over the bodice, getting inside the empty cups, tickling his nipples.

Merlin’s lips brush against his shoulder. ‘I don’t mean to humiliate you. You understand? Just shake your head if you want me to stop.’

Arthur doesn’t shake his head. He burrows against Merlin’s shoulder, the achingly familiar cloth of his blue tunic, smelling his soap, his sweat, his skin.

Merlin tucks a few silky strands of the false hair behind Arthur’s ear, kissing its shell, his arms moving around Arthur to wind around his chest, caressing his nipples through the silk, capturing them between his fingertips, rough and certain. Sliding his hands down to Arthur’s bare stomach, he pulls Arthur back on to his cock, sliding inside him.

Arthur instinctively clenches tight, anticipating the burning pain, but Merlin stops before he’s completely inside him, hands on Arthur’s hips, holding him in place. ‘Slowly,’ he murmurs, lips against Arthur’s ear.

Arthur grunts with exertion, his tied legs giving him no leeway as he kneels before Merlin. Sensing his discomfort, Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur’s waist, supporting his weight, and Arthur leans gratefully back against him. He squeezes experimentally around Merlin’s cock, fully inside him now, and Merlin gasps against his ear. ‘Trollop,’ he says, and thrusts.

Their rhythm is a little off at first, Arthur timing it wrong and trying to push back when Merlin pulls back, but they fall into it soon enough, as if they’ve done this countless times before, as if Merlin isn’t fucking some stranger in a whorehouse, as if he knows.

Even Merlin’s ridiculous sense of courtesy cannot prevent him from fucking harder, his hands clutching at the skirt around Arthur’s hips, holding Arthur against him using the silk, murmuring obscenities against his shoulder. He’s hard and warm and slippery inside Arthur, driving deep into him, sharply, repeatedly, making Arthur’s head spin with sensation. His anklets ring with the pleasure of it, the sound tangling with their gasps and moans. Merlin tugs too hard and the skirt tears around Arthur’s waist, fuelling the impossible fantasy of being taken against his will.

Merlin doesn’t apologise, merely shoves the torn material out of his way and takes hold of Arthur’s bound cock, his palm hot and slippery with oil against Arthur’s foreskin. He bites into Arthur’s shoulder as his thrusts become more erratic, spilling into him, his hand continuing to stroke as he stops moving, breathing hard against Arthur’s back.

Arthur’s cock can’t take it, not with that damned rope binding it tight when he wants so desperately to come. He writhes against Merlin and finds his hand loosening its grip. Merlin uses both his hands to undo the rope, his chin on Arthur’s shoulder so he can see what he’s doing. Arthur stills against him, watching the movements of his long, slender fingers as they untangle the rope, his breath making his veil flutter against his face. He whimpers as the tight cord falls away, sending blood rushing to the abused flesh, Merlin calming him with gentle strokes. ‘Hush, it’s all right, it’s fine,’ he says. ‘Let me take care of you.’

Merlin’s fingers replace his cock, fucking him rough and fast. ‘Look at yourself,’ he says, nudging Arthur’s face toward the mirror. Arthur obeys mindlessly, watching himself get finger-fucked, his hole wet with oil and Merlin’s come, his body draped in ruined silk, ravaged beyond his control, beyond his wildest hopes, held gloriously tight in Merlin’s ties, his frantic eyes visible above the deep red silk covering his nose and mouth. Merlin’s work-calloused hand moves swiftly over his cock, his voice hoarse and filthy against Arthur’s face. Merlin sucks a bruise on the curve of his neck, his teeth grazing against Arthur’s skin. Arthur thrusts helplessly into Merlin’s tight grip, fighting his ropes now, welcoming the burn of them against his skin, his moans struggling past the gag in his mouth, his breathing choked by the veil.

Merlin stops moving his fingers, keeps Arthur filled as he begins to rub his fingertips, gently, deep inside Arthur, ignoring his thrashing. His other hand keeps moving, his thumb gliding around the swollen head of Arthur’s cock, the friction perfect and constant until it’s too much and Arthur’s wailing into his gag, desperate. ‘That’s it,’ Merlin says, his voice rough. ‘That’s it, come on, come for me.’

Arthur shudders in Merlin’s arms, nearly sobbing with relief and overwhelming pleasure as he spills over Merlin’s hand. Merlin holds him crushingly tight, pressing kisses against his sweat-soaked brow, gentling him as he collapses from his high.

The world returns to itself, too bright. Arthur struggles out of Merlin’s arms and moves away, burying his face in the pillows. Merlin unties him without a word, unbuckling the gag but leaving it in Arthur’s mouth, unwilling to touch the veil that’s still concealing his face. He moves away from the bed, returning shortly with a wet cloth, cleaning Arthur up quietly and efficiently. Arthur pulls the gag out of his mouth, his jaw aching with relief, keeping his face turned away from Merlin.

‘I’m going to leave now,’ Merlin says, hesitant, lingering by Arthur’s side. Arthur says nothing. ‘Thank you,’ Merlin adds quietly, brushing his lips against Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur hears him walk to the door. ‘Merlin,’ he says wearily, tugging off the veil.

Merlin stops with his hand on the bolt above his head, his forehead against the door. He turns around, meets Arthur’s eyes, his expression unreadable.

‘When did you know?’ Arthur asks.

‘When I saw your hands. Your back,’ Merlin whispers.

Arthur sits up, wincing at the soreness in his arse, at the chafe of rough sheets against his bare, rope-burned skin.

Merlin is beside him in an instant, hands cupping his face. ‘Are you all right? Did I hurt you?’

Arthur pushes his hands away. ‘’M not some damsel, Merlin.’

He reaches up, pulls Merlin down on to the bed, claims his lips. The kiss tastes of his strawberry-flavoured lips, of sex. He shoves his tongue into Merlin’s mouth, relishing the whimper Merlin lets out as his hands clutch at Arthur’s torn skirt.

‘Does this mean... can we do this again?’ Merlin asks as they pull apart, his expression wary, as though he’s expecting to be slapped at any moment.

Arthur laughs, sliding a hand into Merlin’s hair, fingers tangling with the dark, sweat-damp strands. ‘Only if you sew up my skirt, you careless idiot.’

‘You have a deal, sire,’ Merlin grins, thumbing along Arthur’s wet lips.


End file.
